


Jon Snow's Many Names (And The One He Loves Most)

by queencuba



Series: The Jonsa Agenda [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Jonsa babies - Freeform, jon and sansa have lots of kids because duh, jon is the most cinnamon roll dad, jonsa, no one is suprised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21997366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queencuba/pseuds/queencuba
Summary: Jon Snow, bastard.Jon Snow, brother of the Night’s Watch.Jon Snow, Lord Commander.Jon Snow, King in The North.Aemon Targaryen.Jon Stark, Lord Husband to Queen Sansa.He’s had many names, but none fit him best or make him feel more himself than the one he never saw coming.Father.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: The Jonsa Agenda [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583464
Comments: 15
Kudos: 211





	Jon Snow's Many Names (And The One He Loves Most)

**Author's Note:**

> Could be read as a continuation of "Home Is A Five Letter Name" or a standalone

_Jon Snow, bastard._

_Jon Snow, brother of the Night’s Watch._

_Jon Snow, Lord Commander._

_Jon Snow, King in The North._

_Aemon Targaryen._

_Jon Stark, Lord Husband to Queen Sansa._

He’s had many names, but none fit him best or make him feel more himself than the one he never saw coming. 

_Father_ . 

They are warm in his arms like Maester Aemon once said they would be. They are small and screaming and beautiful. Jon smiles and weeps, strange things to do at once, even stranger how right these two emotions feel together. He truly did not know love until this day. He thought he did, thought that nothing could surpass the love he has for his wife, which is still true in a way. This love, though, is different. This love is all-consuming, it’s fearful, it’s instant, it’s transcendent. It’s fatherhood and he’s unsure if he deserves them.

Their firstborn daughters are twins, but could not be more different. Lya is the first of the two, hair kissed by fire like her mother. Alyx surprises Jon and Sansa, her hair a shock of white. Jon stills. He wonders about the odd twists of fate, of how his own life had been spared and hidden because the Targaryen looks had skipped him. Now, history has come full circle. Sansa kisses Alyx’s head, weeps and calls her beautiful. Later that evening, Sam would tell Jon that sometimes history repeats itself because it wants to be healed. As Jon and Sansa rock their daughters, smiling and eyes still wet with tears, the girls open their eyes to reveal their father’s eyes: a deep brown. 

He loves his daughters with more love he has to give. Every time Jon would think he could not possibly have any more love to offer, that he has given every ounce of it he has, he is proven wrong. They look up at him, tug on his hands, pull at his hair, sleep on his chest, and he’d find it; love that was not there suddenly is again and it’s theirs. 

Jon didn’t know hearts could break in good ways until his girls. Their first steps are to his arms, wobbly and unsure. They fall into his arms and then are suddenly ready for their second steps: away from him. His breath ceases in his chest as they stumble to the ground. Sansa claps for them, and he does too, but all he can think is how the time will come for them to truly fall and he prays like he never has before that the gods give his daughters strong hearts. He prays they are nothing like him: breakable, and naive, the kind of people to jump before they look. He prays his daughters are like their mother: steel. 

They spin in circles, the most delicate laughter dancing from their little mouths. They rip flowers from the ground and giggle as they put weeds into his beard. Jon never has the heart to take them out, even when Sansa hides her splitting grin behind her hand. He pinches her sides, nuzzling her neck as she giggles. He smoothes a hand over her swelling stomach and wonders again about the boundless nature of love, how it has no end but goes on and on, ceaselessly. 

When the girls turned four, Jon and Sansa’s sons were born, both within the same year. Davos calls them “Braavos Twins,” and when Sansa asks him what that means, he answers, “because the Braavosi never stop fucking.” Jon’s face reddens but Sansa laughs, holding the two boys close. Their boys are the first of their children to look like Starks and they name them Eddard and Benjin. They have dark hair and solemn-looking faces, but their eyes are blue and Jon cheers at the fact. He leans in close to his wife, lips hovering teasingly close to hers, and says that it’d be a shame if those Tully eyes were never passed down. And then he kisses her senseless. 

He thought she’d be angry with him, that she’d gotten with child twice in one year, but Sansa only shook her head as their four children piled onto their bed and said, “this is all I ever wanted. I’d have four more with you right now if I could. We’ve lost so many people. I want to fill these halls with children and laughter again.” 

Jon watches his children learn to swing swords. His heart stops every time he hears the metal of swords clang in the courtyard. It is dozens of daggers in his chest again when his daughters and sons are pretend stabbed by wooden play swords, because instead, he sees them on battlefields, bloody and near death. He sees them in places where he cannot protect them, and he is unsure how to breathe when his heart lives outside his body. 

Three years later, their bed packed with sleeping children, Sansa gives Jon an impossibly wide grin. The night had been plagued by lightning storms, and their four children piled into their bed. Alyx sleeps soundly on Jon’s chest, Eddard holding tightly to his hand. Sansa leans over Lya’s head, softly moves Ben’s foot from under her arm and whispers into Jon’s ear, “I’m with child again.” They muffle their laughter, foreheads resting against each other. 

When their redheaded son was placed on Sansa’s chest, there was only one name that tumbled from her lips. “Robb,” she whispered into the ear of their son. Jon watched as his children softly poked and petted their new brother, Sansa giving each of them kisses and reminders that she loved them all. Jon rests a hand over his scarred chest for a moment and thanks whatever gods are listening that he survived, that he lived when so many did not. For so long he did not understand why he was spared, why he was brought back to life. He knows now it was never to win a war, but for this. His eyes find Sansa’s and he thinks to himself, _“it was all for her. Always and only her.”_

Their last child is a girl with the wolf’s blood and Jon’s spitting image. Jenny came as a surprise six years after Robb and keeps everyone on their toes. She learned to walk the quickest of all his children, and Jon keeps begging for time to slow. He spends much of his time running after little Jenny, her legs and arms always covered in bruises. She never cries if people can see her, never asks for anyone to kiss her scraps. When she falls she refuses Jon’s help and he laughs because she reminds him of Arya, but a piece of him aches. He prays that his children come to him when they’re hurt because that’s all a parent wants–to protect their babies. But, Jenny does come. She raises her arms to him when she knows no one can see. He holds her tight and she tells him when she’s ready to be put down, even though he never is. 

He watches his children play together in the courtyard. It is not lost on him that a lifetime ago, Eddard stood here, too, watching his children. As a child, Jon always used to wonder what Eddard would think as he watched his children from above. Jon no longer wonders. He knows the thoughts that plagued the man, the prayers that took up every inch of his tongue, for it is what haunts every father. Jon silently pleads for the world to be kind though he knows it won’t be. He memorizes the sound of his children’s laughter, for he knows they won’t always be this young, or always together. He freezes this moment in time and when he falls too deep into his mind, Sansa is there with a cool hand to bring him back. 

“Daddy!” Jenny calls out. 

“Come play with us!” Robb shouts, waving his hands. 

When Edd isn’t looking, Lya sneakily grabs Longclaw from her brother and runs away with it. Jon had let them practice with the sword today, and though his children all begin to bicker over who gets the sword next, he only feels gratitude. He ruffles Ben’s overgrown hair, prodding a smile from his stoic son, and chases after Lya and Edd. 

“Dad!” Edd shouts, pointing angrily at his sister. “Tell her to give it back!”

“Your turn was up anyway,” Ben argues as Jenny climbs up to sit on his back. 

Alyx shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Though her hair is white, she looks the most like Sansa. He looks back up at his wife, a silent thank you on his lips. She seems to understand and winks. 

Jon had been called many things in his life, but the only name he ever cared for was father. 

  
  
  



End file.
